I disagree with both writers’ assumption that children’s view of themselves and their possible futures are affected by not seeing themselves reflected in the books they read.

I was a very active reader as a child, and in no case did any book I read have the least connection to my life as a middle-class Jewish girl from Brooklyn. I read mainly Twain, Dickens, Alcott, Steinbeck and other authors of “classics.” It never occurred to me that the books I read should be related in any way to the reality I lived in.

These books broadened my knowledge of history, of the world around me and of possibilities for the future; gave me insights into human nature and the nature of relationships; showed me how people cope with different obstacles and crises, sometimes successfully and sometimes not; and, most important, were wonderful vehicles to stimulate my imagination.

Walter Dean Myers does bring up one very important point: Too few black youngsters read. This is a serious problem that deserves much attention. But we should not expect that if black children read books about blacks, their self-esteem would improve more than from reading books about other cultures. Reading itself is the key.

I still strongly believe that the classics are the most valuable books, regardless of one’s age or race.

AMY GLASS Great Neck, N.Y., March 16, 2014

To the Editor: Yes, where are the people of color in children’s books? And not just blacks, but where are Native Americans, Hispanics and Asians?

I want my grandchildren to see faces like theirs in books they read, but also the faces of their friends and those who are not yet their friends. I want my grandchildren to be able to read about the traditions of other cultures.

I want books that are diverse but not labeled and marketed just for their diversity value. I want more books that do not pigeonhole African-Americans or Asian-Americans or Native Americans but include diversity as a matter of reality.

Children need both mirrors and windows. Many children of color see the world only through windows and they need mirrors. And other children only see mirrors and they need to see the world through windows.

SHARRON McELMEEL Cedar Rapids, Iowa, March 17, 2014

The writer is director of McBookwords, a literacy organization, and an instructor at the University of Wisconsin-Stout.

To the Editor: I think most people in the children’s book world would agree that books should try to reflect diversity and individual differences as often as possible. But in your pair of weighty essays you offer a couple of statistical citations, including: “Of 3,200 children’s books published in 2013, just 93 were about black people.”

As I write this, I’m down in my basement, which is a messy sea of brand new kids’ books, since I review as well as write for children. Flipping through titles at random, I turn up a bunch with characters that I honestly can’t define as black or white or otherwise. There are scores of books down here with characters that have nothing to do with human beings of any kind. Here, by the furnace, are alphabet books; over here are animal-related titles; this box is stuffed with fantasy yarns; and that one with collections of poems.

I’m not doubting there’s a lack of diversity in current titles, and I’m not defending that in the least. But don’t we deserve a slightly more complex and nuanced picture of where things stand?

PETER MANDEL Providence, R.I., March 17, 2014

To the Editor: While I am in complete agreement that we need far more diversity and people of color in our children’s and young adult books, we also need more girls and young women of diverse ethnic backgrounds living lives of adventure and accomplishment. Both authors (male) point out that they weren’t represented in the books they were reading and that they didn’t live the lives of the protagonists they were reading about and so were unable to identify with or find themselves in those books.

I’m sorry for their unhappy reading experience. But I certainly didn’t lead the life of the young men in “Johnny Tremain,” and I wasn’t a young German soldier like those in “All Quiet on the Western Front,” nor did I lead a life of privilege like the young men in “A Separate Peace” or “The Catcher in the Rye.”

I wasn’t a musketeer or the Count of Monte Cristo either, or like any of the many, many, many male protagonists in my education system’s assigned reading lists. This did not stop me from enjoying these books, and many others like them, while still wishing that there were more books about girls and young women.

Even the few books about girls that could be found in our school libraries certainly didn’t reflect my life: I wasn’t a young Jewish girl like those in the “All of a Kind Family” or Anne Frank. I certainly didn’t have a father who was the Cannibal King like Pippi Longstocking, nor did I live with my grandfather on a mountain in Switzerland.

A well-written book should not be ignored or found wanting simply because it doesn’t represent every ethnic or racial background. It should represent humanity, and readers should be able to find something of themselves in it — no matter the protagonists’ background or color.